


Lovely Little Leaves

by Butsinceimetyou



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-13 12:57:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3382370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butsinceimetyou/pseuds/Butsinceimetyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taken from <a href="http://pixelocity.tumblr.com/post/107951155174/ok-but-imagine-a-barduil-au-where-they-both-meet">pixelocity</a>'s idea of having Bard and Thranduil meet through their children's daycare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Mornings in the Bowman household can be a bit hectic. Each day starts the same. While Sigrid attempts to wake her younger brother, Bain from his deep slumber, her father, Bard hurries himself packing hearty and healthy sacked lunches and whipping up a quick breakfast for his children before heading up the stairwell to the nursery to wake his littlest, Tilda. It is on mornings like these that Bard misses his late wife the most. When she was still with them, the days always began with such ease and grace. After the accident, life seemed to fall out of order, leaving Bard struggling most days to keep his head above water.

It is the second week of the school year, Sigrid starting off her junior year in high school, and Bain heading into the seventh grade. At the tender age of four, Tilda has yet to start elementary school, leaving Bard with no choice but to send her to daycare whilst he heads to work each day.

On this particular morning, Bard looks to the clock hanging in the kitchen to find that it is already 7:15 am, and he has yet to wake Tilda or take his morning shower. Sausage and eggs simmer on the stove, as he finishes packing Sigrid and Bain’s lunches (Swiss cheese and roast beef on rye and peanut butter on wheat, respectively). Quickly washing and drying his hands, he takes breakfast off the heat, and sets three places at the kitchen table, before calling up the stairs to his eldest child.

“Sigrid, will you wake your sister for me, please?” He requests, receiving a muffled affirmation in return. Taking Sigrid’s indistinguishable response as a yes, Bard heads down the hall to his first floor bedroom and attached bathroom, to take a quick shower.

Once in the confines of his private bathroom, he turns on the water, allowing time for it to warm up. Bard slips out of the sweatpants and t-shirt that he had slept in the night before. Once he’s completely naked, he pulls back the curtain and steps into the small shower. A stream of warm water cascades down his back, easing the tension in his shoulders. He had not slept well, having been up all night tossing and turning. Most nights were like that for him, anymore, dosing on and off for no more than fifteen or so minutes— if at all. His insomnia had been getting the best of him, leaving him drowsy and miserable. Unfortunately, it seemed his children had begun to notice, as Sigrid and Bain gave him worried glances and little Tilda would constantly ask, “Daddy, why are you sad?” He hated to put that kind of stress on his children’s shoulders. They should never be worrying about him. It is his job to worry about _them._

It felt as if he had only been in there a minute at the most, when he heard a knock on the door and a call out from Sigrid,

“Da, we’re going to be late!” Bard jumped out of the shower, drying himself off the best he could in the short time he had before heading back to his room and slipping into his work uniform. Out in the front hall stood Sigrid and Bain, dressed with backpacks and lunches in hand.

“Where’s Tilda?” Bard asked them; however, before either child could answer, he heard the little pitter patter of his youngest running down the stairs.

“I’m here, Da!” The little girl exclaimed, “I forgot my doll.” She told him, showing her father the porcelain China doll that she held to her chest. Bard smiled softly, and nodded in understanding.

“Did you all eat your breakfast?” Nods. “Alright, let’s get going then.” The Bowman family shuffled out the door. Bain and Tilda, with the help of her brother, climbed into the backseat of Bard’s rusted old pickup, as Bard and Sigrid settled in front.

“Seat belts on?” Bard asked his children, receiving a collective confirmation. The drive to Laketown High was about three minutes from their home, and from there, another five to Dale Middle School. Once both Sigrid and Bain had been dropped off, Bard and Tilda were on their way to Little Leaf Daycare, where Tilda spent her days while her siblings were at school and her father was on the job. Bard had never been a fan of having to send Tilda to the place. When Sigrid and Bain were younger, they stayed at home with their mother while Bard was at work. However, with the loss of his wife, there were no other options, as they had no other family that Tilda could stay with during the day. His one saving grace was that Tilda seemed to love going to daycare each day. She was always so excited to play with her new found friend, “Leggy.” Bard had never met the boy; however, he knew that he was Tilda’s very best friend and according to her drawings and stories he had long, silver blonde hair that ran down his back (“Really, Daddy, you have to see it! It’s so pretty!”). As Bard pulled into the parking lot of the little school house, he heard Tilda squeal with excitement from the back seat.

“I get to see Leggy today!” Despite having seen Leggy just last Friday, Tilda was filled with such excitement at the prospect of spending the day with her friend. Bard smiled at the young girl as he helped her out of the truck. Tilda clutched her doll in one hand and grasped her father’s hand with her other, and the two made their way into Little Leaf. Inside, children sat at every corner, table, and crevice of the large room, playing with toys or making crafts or singing. The place had a feel of controlled chaos, but it was light and warm as the kids seemed to be in their elements, having fun with their peers. Tilda pulled on his hand, drawing his attention,

“Leggy isn’t here yet.” Tilda told him, sadness apparent in her voice. This had happened every morning since her first day when he dropped her off. Bard could only figure that Leggy’s parents dropped him off later (as well as picked him up earlier, as Bard had yet to meet him). Bard had also been toying with the idea that perhaps Leggy didn’t exist. Tilda was at just the right age for imaginary friends. Neither Sigrid or Bain had gone through such a phase; however, Bard figured, that perhaps as a way to deal with not having a mother figure around, Tilda’s mind had come up with this character, Leggy, to fill that void.

“I’m sure he will be here soon, sweetheart.” He told the young girl, kneeling down in front of her. “Now, can I have a hug before I go?” The little girl’s frown vanished, as she smiled brightly at her father’s request before wrapping her little arms around her father’s neck.

“I love you, Da.” She said in his chest before pulling back. Bard gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. Standing, he ran his hair through Tilda’s hair, smiling down at her.

“Behave for Miss Holloway, okay? I’ll be back to pick you up at four, as always. Love you.” Bard waved to his little girl, and left after watching her run off to a group of other children playing with finger-paints in the center of the room.

The drive to the UPS dispatch center was about twenty minutes out of the city. Working as a package delivery man hadn’t exactly been Bard’s dream career, but it paid decently and provided health insurance for himself and his family, so he couldn’t really complain. As a single father in the modern world, he was lucky to have such a stable job. Upon arrival, Bard parked his truck in the backlot saved for employee parking and headed inside to clock in and pick up his keys. Back outside, he found his delivery truck and began his day.

\---

When Thranduil Oropherion was just five years old, his mother, Idril began to teach him the art of weaving. Idril was well known in the family for her glorious tapestries. While weaving was merely something that she did for enjoyment in her spare time, Thranduil grew to love it so intensely that he wished to make a career of it. Of course, there is very little call for fine tapestries in this day and age, so he employed the idea of embroidery. After graduating from high school, Thranduil went on to study weaving and embroidery in art school, where he met the woman that would become his wife. Years later, Thranduil has become somewhat of a renowned embroiderer in the fashion world. He has done work for various designers, spanning all over Middle Earth. Most recently, his skills were featured in the latest line from Oakenshield Designs. Had you told young Thranduil so many years ago, that he would someday be well celebrated for his beautiful creations, he would not have believed it; however, as it is, Thranduil’s creations are now loved by so many. Except for himself.

At 28 years old, Thranduil sits in his work room in silence, weaving a tapestry of greenery and trees. His little boy, Legolas, has taken to a love of nature and animals, so for the boy’s upcoming fifth birthday, Thranduil decided to make him a small tapestry to hang in his room. The needle work is stressful and strenuous, and hard on his fingers, leaving them sore and calloused. Had this particular product not been for his son, he would have given up long ago. While he used to find fulfillment in his work, spending every moment he could creating, now he only works when it is required of him. It’s been three years since he had felt any joy in his artwork. Three years since the light of his life was taken from him. Now, the little glow of hope he has left comes only from his young Legolas. Legolas, who is always so full of energy and light. Legolas who loves with his whole heart.

Hours before, he had dropped his son off at Little Leaf Daycare. The boy had been excited about seeing his best friend Tilda, as he was every week day. Tilda was a spritely, little girl with wavy golden brown locks and a bright toothy smile, and was outgoing in a way that Legolas was far from. Each afternoon, in the car ride home, Legolas would tell him the tales of all of his and “Tilly’s” adventures from the day. Legolas’s stories always brought a smile to Thranduil’s face; he was glad to know that Legolas had such a good friend. For so long, he had worried that his son would have trouble fitting in and finding someone to play with, but fortunately he had found a friend in the silly little girl that liked to braid his son’s hair.

A look at the clock informed Thranduil that it was about time to pick Legolas up, so he packed up his thread and slipped on his boots. The drive to Little Leaf was a bit out of the way, as the Oropherions lived on the outskirts of town, closer to the city. Thranduil arrived at the daycare center a bit earlier than usual, pulling in alongside an old pickup truck. As he climbed out of his little BMW i3, he noticed a man getting out of the truck. He looked to be a bit older than Thranduil, in his thirties, perhaps. With shoulder length dark brown hair and a finely trimmed beard, the man had a bit of a rough look; however, Thranduil couldn’t help but find it incredibly hot. Thranduil shook his head at the thought, looking away from the man and locking up his car. He did not have the time to be crushing on the father of one his son’s peers. He walked behind the other man, as they both made their way into the daycare center. Inside, Miss Holloway caught site of them right away, coming up to them with a warm smile,

“Mr. Bowman, Mr. Oropherion!” Right as Miss Holloway said his name, Thranduil felt the eyes of the other man on him, as he must have just noticed his presence. “Good afternoon to you both!”

“Good afternoon,” both men responded,

“I hope Legolas didn’t give you any trouble?” Thranduil asked her, somewhat as a question. Even though he knew Legolas was always perfectly well behaved, he could never help but worry.

“Oh, Mr. Oropherion, your little boy is a saint. You should know that!” The women told him smiling, “Anyways, I’ll go find both of your little ones right away!” She told the two men before hurrying off. Thranduil attempted to keep his eyes away from the other man, not wanting to be caught ogling in any way; however, he couldn’t help but look up when the man spoke.

“Legolas?”

\---

“Excuse me?” The ethereal man questioned. And, wow, his voice is gorgeous, too? Bard couldn’t help but stare. He shook his head, in an attempt to clear his thoughts,

“I’m sorry, but your son’s name is Legolas?” He asked. The six foot five inches of pure beauty gave him a curious look, answering,

“Yes… Why do you ask?”

“Well, it’s just my daughter is always telling me about her little friend ‘Leggy.’ I’m just assuming that must be your Legolas she’s referring to.” The man smiles at that,

“Ah, so then you must be Tilda’s father.” Bard nods, “She’s Legolas’s very best friend. She seems like such a sweet little girl. I’m so happy Legolas has found a friend in her.” A moment of silence follows before, Bard, rather flustered, puts out his right hand.

“I’m Bard, by the way. Bard Bowman.” The man shakes his hand with a shy smile.

“Thranduil Oropherion.” Before either can say anything more, two little tornados of blonde and brown hair appear running towards them, laughing all the way. Both children grab their father’s legs with exclamations of “Ada!” and “Da!”

“Da! Da! You get to meet Leggy now!” Tilda exclaimed, pulling on her father’s hand. Both Bard and Thranduil laugh at the young girl’s enthusiasm. Bard looks to the young boy that Tilda holds so dearly. Legolas, seemly rather shy, hides behind his father, clutching the tall man’s leg as he peers up at Bard. The resemblance between father and son is uncanny— glittering blue eyes and long silver blonde hair, skin pale as snow. Bard crouched down to Legolas’s eye level.

“Hi, Legolas.” He says, giving the boy a kind smile, “I’m Tilda’s father, Bard.” Legolas looked back and forth between Bard and Tilda for a few moments, before slowly moving out from behind his father; however still clutching the tall man’s leg. His hair fell down around his face, as he looked up at Bard, timidly,

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Bard.” He nearly whispered, his shyness rather apparent. Having said all he felt necessary, the little boy slid back behind his father, who had been watching the entire exchange intently. Bard stood, smiling before turning back to Legolas’s father, whom he caught staring at him. Seeing he had been caught, Thranduil’s face flushed a deep red, noticeable on his pale silken skin. Bard figured the flush was caused by Thranduil’s shyness, a quality Legolas must have inherited from him.  Just then, Tilda tugged at Bard’s trousers, diverting his attention from the striking man in front of him,

“Da, can Leggy come over this weekend to play?” Bard smiled at his daughter, before turning back to Thranduil,

“As long as Mr. Oropherion doesn’t mind.”

\---

Thranduil’s head shot up at the sound of his name,

“What was that?” He stuttered. The sound of his name on Bard’s tongue did not help with his plan to diminish this little crush he seemed to have garnered so quickly. In the years since his wife’s death, he had not so much as looked at another woman, let alone a man, and yet, somehow this Bard Bowman was having a strong effect on him.

“Would Legolas be permitted to come over this Saturday for a playdate with Tilda?” Bard asked, his voice smooth. Thranduil looked down to the two children, both of whom stared at him with hope filled eyes.

“Of course he can.” Thranduil told them. The two children cheered at the prospect of their playdate.

“Ah, well, perhaps we should exchange numbers, so I can text you our address?” Bard suggested, hoping he didn’t come off as flirting (he didn’t want to scare the man). Without responding, Thranduil handed Bard his phone, allowing him to add his number. Handing back the phone Bard noticed it was getting a bit late, “Well, we better head home, Tilda. Your brother and sister are probably waiting for us.” Thranduil tried not to look disappointed, before he agreed with the other man, stating that he and Legolas needed to get home, too. And with that, the two families bid their goodbyes, the children with joyful exclamations and the fathers with bashful, somewhat longing last looks.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it took so long for me to post, but here's chapter 2 :)

                The rest of the week passed quickly. Each day Thranduil picked Legolas up early, in an attempt to run into Bard. The two men spoke cordially, always making small talk, speaking of their children, their jobs, the weather, and such. Finally Saturday came and both Legolas and Tilda were beyond excited for their playdate. Tilda had ran around her room like a speed demon, making sure it was absolutely perfect for when her little friend arrived. Legolas begged his father to braid his hair the way Tilda liked it, and on the drive over he went on and on about how he had never been to someone else’s house before and _Ada, do you think it will look like ours_ and _will Tilda like my hair, oh, of course she’ll like my hair_. For two little children, they were rather nervous about this meeting, but so very excited. The fathers on the other hand, were nothing _but_ nervous.

                 The Oropherions arrived at the Bowman’s right at 12 o’clock. Legolas hopped out of the car and ran to the door before Thranduil had even placed a foot on the pavement. He strode up to the front porch of the house, where Legolas stood fidgeting, waiting for his father to ring the doorbell. A few moments later, the large oak door swung up to the sight of a young women. Thranduil assumed she must be Sigrid, Bard’s eldest daughter. He had mentioned her a few times throughout the past week during their daily small talks at the daycare center. And although her appearance did not quite match her father’s (she must look like her mother), it was easy to see that she was Bard’s child, simply by the softness of her eyes and the kindness in her smile. The girl smiled brightly at the man and his overly excited son,

                “You must be Legolas and Mr. Oropherion. Tilda and Da having been running around like a couple of chickens with their heads cut off getting the house ready for you two to arrive,” She told them, chuckling, “Please come in.” She said, smiling and stepping aside. Legolas skipped up into the house and Thranduil followed, giving the girl a smile and nod in thanks. Stepping over the threshold, Thranduil couldn’t help but look around the house he had just entered. The Bowmans’ home was a modest two story. Each room appeared rather neat and organized, but it was easy to tell that it was loved and well lived in. Thranduil couldn’t help but glance over all of the frames that adorned the walls as Sigrid led them back through the house into the kitchen. Once arriving in the large, yellow room, the group came across Tilda, who sat at the table, coloring book in hand.

                “Tilda, your friend is here.” Sigrid informed her younger sister. Tilda’s head shot up, pure joy and excitement evident on her face.

                 “Legolas! You’re here! Finally! I’ve been waiting forever.” The little girl squealed and jumped from her seat, abandoning her coloring book and box of crayons. She ran to the boy, grabbing his hand, “Come on, I have to show you my room.” Legolas shot his father a quick smile, before allowing Tilda to drag him from the room and down the hallway. A few moments later, their little footsteps could be heard rushing up the staircase and in the hallway on the floor above.

                As the children were now out of the room, which left Thranduil and Sigrid alone in the kitchen. Sigrid turned to the stove, picking up a spoon and stirring something in one of the pots simmering on the heat,

                “Da just popped out to the grocery store to buy some lemons, so we could make some fresh lemonade to go with lunch. He should be back soon, though.” Sigrid told Thranduil, turning from her place at the stove to look at him. “We’re having tomato soup and grilled cheese. It’s not much, but you’re welcome to stay, if you like.” Thranduil could not help but smile at the young girl’s offer. It was obvious that she had a warm heart just like her father’s. “Oh, and take a seat, please, you don’t have to stand the whole time.” She offered, gesturing to the kitchen table and chairs across the room.

                “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude.” Thranduil tells her, shaking his head. “I’ll get out of your hair as soon as your father returns.” He tells, her sitting down. Sigrid smiles slightly, and rolls her eyes,

                “You wouldn’t be intruding, and I’m sure my dad would love to see you.” She said with a smirk. Before Thranduil could ask her what she meant by the comment, the sound of the front door opening and closing echoed through the house, and boots on hardwood and bags rustling in arms could be heard down the hall. Moments later, Bard appeared in the kitchen, Bain in tow, carrying a small sack of lemons.

                “We got the last sack in the store. Honestly, I don’t know how a grocery store can run out of—” Bard stopped short, as he noticed the tall, beautiful man seated at his kitchen table. “Thranduil, oh, um, hello.” He stuttered, “Are you um—, would you like—, uh” Thranduil looked at the other man intently, obviously unsure of what he was trying to say.

                “Da, I already asked him to stay for lunch.” Sigrid told her father, with a knowing smile. Bard glared at his daughter, as a deep flush ran up his neck and colored his cheeks.

                “Oh, well… good. That’s, that’s good. Well, wait, are you— do want to? Because you don’t have to stay—”

                “I would love to stay for lunch, Bard.” Thranduil cut the other man off, this time flushing, himself. Bain looked confoundedly between the two men, obviously not as perceptive as his older sister. Sigrid noticed the confusion on her brother’s face, and decided she might as well let him in on the not-so-secret crush that their father was harboring.

                “Da, can you watch the soup? I need to call Gina.” Not waiting for any sort of confirmation from her father (he and Thranduil were suddenly caught up in a conversation about weaving or something or other), Sigrid grabbed Bain’s arm and pulled him down the hall and into the living room.

                “Hey, stop pulling my arm. What are you doing?” Bain demanded, disgruntled. Sigrid rolled her eyes at her brother,

                “Okay, so you know the man in the kitchen?”

                “Yeah, he’s Legolas’ dad, right?”

                “Right, but anyways, have you noticed that ever since da met him last week, he talks about him a lot?” Sigrid asked him. Bain made a face, as he thought back over the past week,

                “Hmmm, yeah, I guess he does.” He agreed, “But, so what? Da doesn’t have that many friends since he’s always either working or taking care of us, why wouldn’t he be happy about meeting someone?”

                “But that’s just it, da doesn’t look at Mr. Oropherion like he wants to be friends.” Sigrid says, staring him dead in the eye, “Oh, come on, Bain.” She exasperates, looking to the ceiling, as her brother, very obviously still has not caught on, “He likes him, okay?  Da has a crush on Legolas’ dad.” She tells him, somewhat condescendingly. Bain’s eyes widen at this information, before his brow furrows,

                “Are you certain?”

                “Absolutely, and going by the way Mr. Oropherion was looking at da, I would bet that his feelings are reciprocated.” She concluded, her voice filled with excitement. “Therefore, we need a plan.”

                “A plan? A plan for what?” Bain questioned, uncertainty in his voice, “Sigrid, don’t tell me you’ve come up with some super intense and detailed idea to try and get them together?”

                “Well…” She started, feigning innocence, “Suppose I did?”

                “Sigrid! We can’t just mess with da’s life like that. If he wants to be with Mr. Oropherion, he should decide that on his own.” Bain says, sternly.

                “But, you know da would never make a move. He’s always so worried about us and everything else in the world. He probably thinks that having a boyfriend would upset us. Which, of course, isn’t true.” She declares, “Just think, Bain, if we could get them alone for just an hour or two… If they got together, maybe da would be happy again.” She says, softly, “I just want him to be happy, again.” Bain can’t help but agree with that,

                “Okay. Okay, fine. I’ll go along with your plan. Tell me what you have in mind.”

\---

                Back in the kitchen, Thranduil is seated at the table, telling Bard all about how he came into his career as an embroiderer, while the other man makes grilled cheese sandwiches in a frying pan on the stove.

                “So, basically, after college, I applied to any job or internship I could find. The embroidery world is not very wide, let me tell you. I was rather lucky when I was first hired by Rivendell Designs. After that, I worked my way up in the company, and eventually started doing my own work. Which is how I got to where I am now.” He concludes. Bard couldn’t help but smile at the passion that filled Thranduil’s voice as he told the entire tale of his chosen career path.

                “Creating for some of the largest fashion houses in the world.” Bard adds, clearly amazed. “Thranduil, that is absolutely incredible.” The blonde man blushes under the praise, “Honestly, I find it so admirable that despite the chance of being a poor artist, you stuck with what you were passionate about, and now you are succeeding in it beyond measure.”  

                “Hmm, well, thank you. You are far too sweet.” Thranduil preens, “But what about you? How did you end up as a UPS man, if you don’t mind my asking?” Bard chuckles,

                “Well, let’s just say, I don’t have the same passion for my job as you have for yours. It pays the bills, that’s what matters.” Bard confesses, “I was going to school for photography, but then Elena found out she was pregnant, so I got the job at UPS. For a while, I tried to work and go to school, but it became too much. And now, here we are, I guess.”

                “That’s why you’re not in the photos.” Thranduil muses.

                “Hmm? What photos?” Bard turns to look at him, his brow crinkled adorably.

                “I glanced at your photos hanging in the hallway, earlier. You’re not in any of them. Each one is of your children and your wife, but never you.”

                “Oh, yes, all of the pictures in the hall are ones that I’ve taken.”

                “They’re all very beautiful… it’s clear that it’s something you love.”

                “…I do. I did. I don’t have much time for it, anymore. I take photos of the kids when I get the chance, but I haven’t done a photography project of any sort since I left school.” The sadness in Bard’s eyes made Thranduil’s heart clench. This man had given up everything for his family, and yet he never showed any sign of bitterness. He was always kind, always warm. Life had not sucked the light from him, just casted a few dreary clouds overhead.

                “Daddy?” a call from the entry way broke Thranduil and Bard’s attentive stares. Both men turned their heads and found Tilda and Legolas standing hand in hand at the opening to the kitchen, “Is lunch ready, yet? Me and Leggy are hungry.” The two children gave their father pouty faces, and wrapped their arms around their stomachs to further dramatize their hunger. Both men laughed, shaking their heads,

                “Well, you’re in luck, Tilly, darling. I just finished the last of the sandwiches. All that’s left is to make the lemonade. Would you like to help?” Tilda’s eyes widened with excitement,

                “Yes! Yes! I want to juice the lemons.” She cried, running across the room to stand at her father’s side.

                “Alright then. Legolas, would you like to help, too?” Bard asked the shy little boy. Legolas, who had since moved to stand by his own father, looked up at Bard with curious eyes. A few moments passed before he turned to Thranduil, who simply smiled at him, and turned back to Bard, nodding. “Well, come on over. You two can juice the lemons.” Bard pulled up two chairs for the children to stand on, and helped them press the lemon halves down on the juicer.

Thranduil watched intently as his son seemed to warm up to Bard, smiling and even speaking a few times to Tilda’s father. As he sat and watched the three make lemonade, an overwhelming feeling of warmth settled within him. The entire situation was so familial and domestic. Sitting in the Bowman’s yellow kitchen on a Saturday afternoon was turning into one of the best days Thranduil had experienced in a while.

                At some point Sigrid and Bain had returned to the kitchen, and the two immediately went about setting the table. The kids all settled down in their seats as Bard passed around bowls of soup and sandwiches, and Thranduil poured everyone a glass of lemonade. Everything sorted, the two men joined their children at the table, and enjoyed a delicious lunch filled with good conversation and laughter. If only Thranduil knew that it had been Bard’s best day in such a long time, too.


End file.
